Fountain Fragments
by Rue-xx
Summary: AH. Rose and Mason have been best friends since thet were three. Mason dies when they're both seventeen. Find out how Rose holds onto Mase's memory.


**Hey guys, so before you read this I would like to ask you to read this with compassion because it's not only a story but it's a story I wrote about eight months ago in memory of my best friend Erik Johnson. I converted this into a Mason and Rose story because our situation was somewhat similar – he had feelings for me, but I never returned them – though he was a year older than me. I chose VA for this dedication because he had read it on my insistence and had always joked about how he was like Mason (situation wise) and Adrian (appearance wise) Also, I have ****_a lot_**** in common with the VA so the books hold a special place in my heart. I edited the names and ages, but if I missed out on any – let me know. **

**Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns Mase and Rosie. ;)**

**Chapter 1**

The flowers glistened in the pure radiance of the full moon that graced the star scattered sky; I advance silently towards the fountain that lay within the maze of greens with splashes of scent and color. All the while twirling the gold and purple polka-dotted scarf I wore around my neck; bearing bittersweet memories. I approach the fountain with glistening eyes as I lay eyes on the two stone seals wrapped around one another squirting water. I remembered when the two of us had spent indefinite hours arguing about whether it should be turtles, dolphins or seals.

_I remember it as clear as the water that circulated the fountain in question. It was a cool autumn evening and Mase and I were too busy playing Super Mario Bros. to actually appreciate the weather, then again what nine year old pays attention to the weather. We had just completed stage 4 of 3 when we were oh so rudely interrupted by my dad and Uncle John saying they wanted to have a fountain constructed in our garden – It was a garden that had been created in honor of my birth. Mase and I had eventually claimed it as our personal 'sanctuary' when we were about five. _

Ever since then we had found comfort amidst the sky-high trees, berry-bearing bushes, ever-blooming flowers and the constant buzz of the bees that provided a soothing atmosphere to our troubled selves. But most of all we sought comfort and refuge in each other's embrace.

Now, however, I sat alone at the mahogany bench right next to the fountain, chewing my bottom lip as I close my eyes and let the soothing sounds of the water lull me into oblivion. The scarf that I toy with holds new meaning to me – It, in a way, ties me to him. It feels as if I've a physical reminder of him to hold close to my heart. The polka dots themselves hold great meaning for me. They are a constant reminder of our friendship.

_I was three years old at the time and was at the Hospital because I had managed to mutilate my right foot via a bicycle and had needed stitches, coincidentally I also had Chicken Pox at that time and the doctor was appalled at how a mere three year old could manage to stay calm in such a drastic situation – It was truly amusing to see the frantic medical staff and would have been even more so had it not been for the agonizing pain._

_I recall being placed in a private room for further observations in case an infection surfaced. I remember being immensely drained because of the constant visits from relatives; it had all been very annoying because I could see the pity in their eyes. Even as a child I loathed pity, It made me feel as if I was weak and I hated the very thought of being weak. There had been one visitor that I had looked forward to seeing, though – Uncle John._

_ He, however, had not come alone, He had brought Drew along and another boy who I assumed was his youngest son Mason that he had told me so much about. My first evaluation of Mason had been a mischievous kid with sparkling blue eyes and messy red hair that stuck out in random directions. He had come up to me and said, "You've polka dots, you're weird." I hadn't known what weird had meant at the time so naturally, I immediately switched to defensive and had replied with, "No. I'm not weird, you're weird. You've polka dots too." And he did, for he wore black and white polka-dotted shorts. We didn't talk after that and simply glared at each other._

_When the doctor had cleared me, however, Mase had come up to me and hugged me like his life depended on it and whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." After that he had kissed my cheek not caring that I had Chicken Pox. It was that day that we became inseparable, talking about anything and nothing with each other, though mostly food and cartoons._

I sigh as I wipe away a traitorous tear that seems to have escaped my eye while I was reminiscing. Mason's death had taken its toll on me and I felt just about ready to break. I exhale audibly as I recall the day it all happened.

_"NO! It won't happen. You still have chances of survival. Chemo therapy may just work. Have hope, Mase. Just have hope. If not for yourself, for Me.", I had been near tears at the very thought of him being ripped away from me all due to Brain Cancer – A disease that had previously taken my grandfather away from me. I had refused to believe that I'd lose Mase to a freaking malignant tumor that they had written off as benign, even though I had seen the size of that thing in the MRIs, I wasn't sure who I had been trying to convince at the time, Him or myself. He had leaned towards me, lightly brushing the back of his fingertips along my cheek while murmuring, "I will always love you, Rose." That's when it happened. His hand slackened and his heart monitor went flat. The code team rushed in and tried to save him by shocking him and intubation but his thread had been cut by fate. I had fallen to my knees, completely shattered._

That had been not 6 hours ago and I still refused to believe that Mase truly was dead -Just thinking the word sent shivers up my spine – gone forever. I refused to believe that I'd never get to see him smile or hug him. We would no longer be able to have eating competitions where I'd mock him about shoving down his food and he'd tease me about practically inhaling mine. I refused to believe that when I go back home, he wouldn't be there holding a huge bowl of ice-cream and a wad of tissues, all prepared to comfort me if I broke down. I refused to believe that life had played such a cruel card.

I laugh hysterically at the irony of the moment, for due to a weird twist in fate we had not only met in a hospital but parted in one too. I look up towards the glittering firmament and take a silent oath to not let Mason down but to be strong and move on, to honor his memory by being the same girl that he loved – if not slightly scarred and traumatized. I tighten the scarf around my neck and begin weaving my way through the maze, to head back home - A home that would be missing an integral part of it – with a broken heart that was slowly mending with the knowledge that Mason was in a better place, that he was not suffering but was content in death's oblivious embrace.

**Tell me what you think! :) Again, I appreciate you guys taking your time to read this. It means a lot. If you guys want and if I have enough requests, I just might continue this with random memories. :D**


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